


illyrian tendencies

by leafygreenturtle



Series: The High Lord's Lovers [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Begging, F/M, Face-Sitting, Female receiving oral, Femdom, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Teasing, handjob, little bit of degradation, male sub, rhys is tense and horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28702659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafygreenturtle/pseuds/leafygreenturtle
Summary: Rhys is a horny teenager and has some tension he needs to work off, and when a swordfight doesn't help, someone else might have just the thing in mind.*In ACOMAF, Cassian says that all the three of them (Rhys, Cassian, and Az) wanted to do when they were teenagers was "fuck and fight", and Rhys tells Feyre that he's "had lovers" before. This series is based off of these quotes, and each fic will feature a different sexual/romantic encounter Rhys had before he met Feyre.*
Relationships: Rhysand/Original Character
Series: The High Lord's Lovers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103960
Kudos: 36





	illyrian tendencies

Rhys can feel his blood thrumming in his head. He feels restless, frenzied. He knows Az can pick up on it, too. He knows Azriel probably feels the same way.

_It’s normal,_ the camp lords had said. _For males your age._

He barely registers the steel clashing on steel. He dodges a blow, strikes again. Azriel’s movements are smooth and cool as the shadows that twine around his bare chest. 

Sometimes he thinks fighting cools him down, steadies him. Other times, he thinks it makes it worse, stokes the fire inside him. His whole body is tense, like a tightly coiled spring. 

Panting, he throws his Illyrian blade down. “I’m going to wash up,” he says.

They use a communal bathroom, with little privacy. But there’s no one there now. He hisses out a breath as he feels his cock harden. He palms it in his hand, rubbing down the shaft roughly. His eyes flutter shut. 

This won’t be enough. He knows from past experience. It might take the edge off for an hour, maybe two, but he needs something more. 

There is one person he could go to. 

Lola is a bar-maiden in one of the pubs close to the camps. It’s a frequent destination for the Illyrians in the camps who are looking to get away for an hour or two. He’d met her here on one of those excursions. 

When he spots her brown curls in the messy crowd, he waits for her to turn around, then gives her a grin. 

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise, but she walks over to him. “You, again.” She gives him an amused look. “I’d ask what you’re here for, but I already know.”

He can’t help himself. He kisses her, gently at first, but when she makes a smalls sound of encouragement and flattens a hand on his chest, he deepens it, sliding a hand to cup her face.

“You took too long,” she gasps in between kisses. “Upstairs.”

She leads him to a small, unfurnished bedroom on the second floor. There are no customers here, it seems like a storage space. 

He doesn’t care, not as she leads him to the bed, pushes him down on his back and straddles his face.

He groans, wasting no time delving his tongue into her wet folds, licking straight up her center. She slides a hand down to grip his hair, adjusting him beneath her and shoving him harder against her, with no room for him to breathe. He sucks desperately at her clit, bucking his hips up in an attempt to find relief, but she doesn’t touch him. 

No, she draws small patterns on his stomach, getting close to his suffering erection, but she doesn’t touch him.

She must feel his need, because she laughs. "You want me to touch you? Show me you deserve it."

He groans against her, pressing his face harder into her, nudging her folds open with his nose, then licking up the same spot. He slides a finger into her, pumping it in and out slowly, while he flattens his tongue against her and she grinds on it, hard and fast. His jaw aches, and his cock throbs with need, but she holds him ruthlessly trapped under her thighs, riding his face as she comes onto it. Her thighs clench around him, so tight around him he thinks he's going to pass out, and he can't get enough of it. 

She shifts off him once she’s come down from her high, letting him breathe freely now, and he pants, gasping, shuddering as his cock twitches and precum pools at the red, throbbing tip of it. 

“Poor High Lord’s son,” she croons. “Spoiled rotten. Are you frustrated? That’s too bad, because I’m not done yet.”

If it’s possible, he gets harder. His face is red from being deprived of oxygen, and his nose, mouth, cheeks and chin are dripping obscenely with her wetness. His lips are plump and red, and he knows the needy, desperate picture he makes.

“Again,” she says, straddling him once more. “This time, do it right.”

His neck cranes up to lap at her before she even sits down fully on him, and he curls his tongue as deep into her as it will go, sucking on her wet folds, lapping up the wetness that drips down. She gasps, rocking onto his face, his tongue, and he slips in two fingers this time, then three. 

She shudders atop him, then comes with his name on her mouth. 

When the last waves of pleasure ebb, and she’s limp on top of him, she shifts off. Her gaze goes to his leaking cock now. 

“So needy,” she says, running a finger down the rock-hard length. “So desperate. Pathetic.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “Please. I need-”

She grips him tightly, and he cuts off, crying out. 

She pumps his length in her hand, then leans down to suck the head of him into her mouth. Her tongue strokes over the sensitive nerves there, and he thrusts up into her mouth, desperately, blindly. 

She pulls off, wiping her mouth. “You’ve been bad. You didn’t come to me soon, like you promised. So you don’t get to fuck me.”

A desperate keen left his throat. “Lola,” he said hoarsely. 

She stroked him harder now, faster. He could feel the edge approaching. 

“So you’re going to come all over my hand like the stupid, horny, teenage boy you are.”

The words sent him over the edge. He came, with a hoarse cry. It lasted for what seemed like ages, and when he it was over, she licked the mess off her hand, sucking her fingers. He groaned at the sight of it, at the knowledge that she wanted to taste him. 

“I missed the taste of you,” she sighed. 

In the wake of his orgasm a calm had settled over his body. He felt relaxed, sated. 

“Me too,” he said, then kissed her again. “I’m sorry,” he added. “For not visiting sooner.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You Illyrian males are all the same. What did I expect?” Though she says it lightheartedly, without any heat in the words. 

“At least we make up for it with other skills,” he quipped.

**Author's Note:**

> send me prompts at my tumblr @rhysandswhore or just drop in and say hi!


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